


Last Strand

by disillusionist9



Series: Choose Dare [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7657222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble #4 of 100. Petunia always wanted what she couldn't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Strand

The goal was to find someone the exact opposite of _him_. _He_ was tall and lean, Vernon was short and round. There was never any question of where Vernon's loyalties resided but she had never been sure where _he_ stood on anything. A sharper wit she'd never find. Vernon was the least magical person she had ever come into contact with but _he_ set the endings of her nerves on fire.

Lily had gotten everything. She was older, prettier, magical, and he loved her.

Petunia understood in the back of her mind, once she was older, she fell in love with Severus Snape because he was unattainable. No one could resist Lily's charm. Even her parents had an obvious favorite, and that sting never truly went away.

She hadn't seen him since Lily and James' funeral. A tall imposing figure beneath a tree at the edge of the graveyard trembling worse than the sparse leaves above him. She wondered why he did not come closer? Didn't he love her? Bitterly she grasped more firmly to Vernon's arm which he interpreted as a moment of sentimental weakness and patted her hand in what he must have interpreted as understanding.

Walking away from Lily's grave, still holding firmly onto Vernon's meaty upper arm, she felt the ghost of his presence to her left. Turning her head her face was met with intense black eyes that were surprisingly dry. For the first time that afternoon her throat constricted.

"Sev...Mr. Snape," she whispered in pained acknowledgement, eyes deadlocked to his. She cleared her throat and swallowed. Was that impending lightning from the storm or was it simply...him?

The edges of his eyes tightened and she swore she could see tears forming there.

"Petunia, dear," said Vernon. "Who are you talking to?"

Momentarily distracted, she blinked several times and realized the pressure on her nerves was gone, and so was _he._

"No one, dear," she replied shakily, regaining her composure. "I thought...I thought I saw…"

Vernon patted her hand again, less genially and more as a warning that she was cutting through his jacket and marking his pliant skin below. "It's been a long day dear, why don't I take you home, I need to be getting back to the office. The quarter results won't produce themselves."

Petunia nodded mechanically, allowing herself to be pulled away and into Vernon's sensible Ford Escort and back home to her son.

The last time Petunia saw Severus Snape was when she was in hiding with Vernon and Dudley, the winter spent in the safe house was brutal and cramped. She couldn't stand it. All she could think about were the years of her treatment of Harry, remembering Lily's funeral but more so her laughter when they were younger, and intrusive images of the little boy who had latched onto her sister the moment they met.

Standing outside in the backyard between high hedges she let the bitter blizzard wind brace her. Cold seeped through her cheap cotton house slippers and snuck up between her thin silk nightgown and dressing gown, the one that was held together by its last strand. Sleep was rare and fleeting when images of depthless and accusatory black eyes stared at you each time you closed your lids. She'd created the image so many times in her mind that she'd forgotten it was an illusion and not a memory.

Then, beneath the branches of an evergreen, between bursts of snow, she saw him again. Just as tall, just as lean, just as powerful. Was he reaching out to her? Yes! There, his arm was outstretched towards her. All she had to do was take another step. And another.

His hands were warm despite the cold, dry in the wind. His hood was pulled tightly over his eyes. Beneath the sharp sting of cold wind in her face she could smell woodsmoke and something herby on his cloak. One more step towards him and she would be sharing that cloak...

Dudley held her hand as she slept off her brush with hypothermia. His father couldn't be bothered with her "moment of utter stupidity, really it was a blizzard outside".

Petunia never saw _him_ again, in dreams or reality.

**Author's Note:**

> If You Dare Challenge | #426 - Last Strand | Severus & Petunia | Word Count: 706  
> Posted January 25th, 2016 on fanfiction.net, pair requested by scrumptiousinternetllama (ffn & tumblr)


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